Believe In Yourself (The Way I Believe In You)
by DobbyRocksSocks
Summary: Sam just needs to believe in himself the way Steve believes in him. Wing!Fic for Lo.


**Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.**

 **Word Count - 976**

 **Beta'd by the lovely Sam**

 _Written for Lo for drabble game for the request Sam Wilson & Wing!Fic. Hope you like it hun :D _

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**Believe In Yourself (The Way I Believe In You)**

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Awareness was slow to come, but when Sam blinked his eyes open, he knew immediately that something was different. Gone were the stone walls that had held him captive, and the creepy scientists leaning over him.

Gone was the sense that he was about to be sliced open on a whim. Gone was the eerie silence that had deafened him for… however long he'd been held.

"Hey."

Turning his head, he was so relieved to see Steve beside his bed that he felt tears fill his eyes.

"How are you feeling?"

Steve's voice was soft and gentle and when he reached out to touch Sam's hand, the touch echoed his tone.

"I… don't know," Sam admitted, his voice rough with disuse. "How… how long?"

Steve sighed. "Hydra had you for almost three weeks. We found you four days ago. You're at the base medical centre now."

Sam nodded, though he aborted the movement quickly when it sent a sharp pain through his temple.

"What's the damage?"

"They -" Steve cut himself off. "It might be best to let the doctors explain exactly what they did. I don't want to…"

"Just tell me," Sam begged, fear making itself known. He knew what Hydra was capable of. Bucky was living proof that they had absolutely no morals.

"Sam…"

"Just tell me, Steve! Please!"

"They gave you wings. Real wings."

…

Wings, it turned out, were not easy to control. Sam had hoped that they'd be similar to Bucky's arm, in that with a mere thought he could control the movement, almost like a real limb.

It turned out that three weeks wasn't long enough to make such strides with their medical science, and so, Sam's wings were almost unusable.

Almost, because the doctors were almost positive that there was a way to use them, that Sam just hadn't found it yet.

Regardless, the whole thing had left Sam in an absolutely foul mood, even more so when he realised that the wings were in the way of his metal Falcon wings.

Which meant he was grounded and useless.

Slumping on the sofa, listening to the Avenger alert, Sam buried his face in a cushion. Without his metal wings what use was he anyway?

…

"What are you doing?" Steve asked from the doorway.

"I'd say that was fairly self evident," Sam snapped. "I'm packing to go home."

"This is your home!" Steve argued, stepping into the room.

"No, this is where the Avengers live," Sam disagreed, chucking more things into one of the many boxes cluttering the room. "I'm not an Avenger any more."

"Sam -"

"No! Don't give me any pitying bullshit that I can still be an Avenger without my wings. I don't need _pity,_ Steve! I need -"

"What you need is to stop packing," Steve interrupted, his voice hard. "That you thinking your only worth is the metal wings you sometimes wear is worrying, but aside from that, _you're the only one grounding you!"_

Sam stopped and stood up straight, his fists clenched at his sides. He glared at Steve. "What do you mean, I'm the one that's grounding me? Are you saying it was my fault Hydra captured me, _tortured me,_ experimented on me? Is that what you're saying, Steve?"

Steve shook his head. "No. What I'm saying is that if you put as much energy into trying to work out how the wings on your back work that you do into throwing a self pity party, you'd have already figured out how they work by now!"

Steve left the room, leaving Sam staring after him.

Looking around at all the boxes, Sam dropped onto the bed, his head falling into his hands.

What on earth was he doing?

…

Sam worked. He put hours in with the doctors and the physiotherapists and he _worked._ He pushed, probably too hard, and he pushed and he pushed and it didn't work and still he pushed further because he wouldn't let himself down.

He wouldn't let Steve down.

He wouldn't let his _team_ down.

On one particularly bad day, he returned from the medical centre and went straight to his room. He couldn't face the others with their happy smiles and their questions about how his session had gone. He knew they meant well but he just couldn't deal with it.

On his bed, he found a small plate with his favourite fruits and a slice of red velvet cake. Sitting just above it was a note.

 _I know you can do this. Believe in yourself, the way I believe in you._

Sam recognised the writing immediately. Picking a grape up from the plate, he popped it in his mouth. Reading the words again, his lips lifted into a smile.

Steve could be a cheeseball, but Sam appreciated the note more than he could ever hope to express in words. Tucking the note into the drawer beside his bed, Sam moved the plate and sat down.

Maybe he'd been looking at the whole thing wrong, he mused as he ate. He'd been thinking of the wings like he thought about the Falcon wings, a separate entity that he could control.

His wings were part of him, attached to him.

So maybe if he thought about them in that respect…

The fluffy white wings on his back fluttered.

…

Sam swooped down, his wings fluttering wildly behind him. With a loud 'whoop!', he latched his arms around Steve, pulling him up into the air with him and spinning around.

"I can do it, Steve!"

Steve's face morphed from startled to happy in an instant. "I can see that," he said, his smile wide and genuine.

Sam couldn't stop himself, and he pressed his lips to Steve's, bestowing a hard kiss there.

When he pulled away, he murmured, "Thank you."

Steve's brow furrowed adorably. "For what?"

"For believing in me."


End file.
